Friday, January 15, 2010

Realities of a Wounded Crow - Volume 3

So who in their right mind would go get two perfectly good teeth yanked out of their jaw? Well that would be me, thank you very much. As I type this I am sitting here with that white cloth and ice wrapped around my head as they would in the Bugs Bunny cartoons, and I had just done finished looking at the two black and nasty holes in my mouth. It wasn't that bad, but as with anything else in this world the unknown is half the excitement, which still made getting my last two wisdom teeth pulled an adventure.

You see, I am a lot more impressionable than I let on, and when the dentist explained to me that I really should get those teeth pulled {with that gorgeous little dental technician batting her eyes and nodding behind him .. I'm weak I tell you weak!} and since HE'S the doctor I went along with this. There was a part of me that was looking forward to getting that one tooth out of my cheek, and perhaps making the process of brushing my teeth easier, but when it works why fix it yanno? Besides, it's another glorious opportunity for me to show off my ebur-manness and do something needlessly painful, in an attempt to show off what a toughie I am.

Well what really goes into getting teeth pulled? This is the most commonly used term for something that is a pain in the ass, so I took an extra special pleasure {ok fear} in paying attention to the experience. The first part was that I had to take two days off from work. Some people might think this is a good thing, but I rather save my “personal days” for things like “enjoyment” as opposed to, “the textbook definition of a pain in the ass.” I had to take two because I was told not to work the night of, and thanks to the surgeries only being performed in the morning, I couldn't work the night before. While on that subject, I couldn't “sleep” the night before either. I kept having nightmares {go figure} and in the end I slept through the alarm to get me about two hours total. I see a lot of these things come in twos.

Well after the glorious lack of sleep my grandmother {knowing me all too well} woke my ass up an hour before the appointment, and I got up to take the antibiotics and the Motrin like I was supposed to. These both made my stomach start “the dance of the fuck you Jeremy” and that was a normal start to what had been an irregular night. Of course I was worried so that didn't help. I then managed to get motivated enough to make the drive to the Surgical Center. Wonderful, glorious idea came to me as I decided to stop and get a couple of ice coffees, and save myself the embarrassment of trying to talk afterwards. I forgot Jeremy Crow rule of life #17 .. People are less efficient in the daylight and rule #14 .. People drive a lot stupider in the daylight, which was going to now interfere with me getting there on time. I did though thanks to my wonderful “stunt driving” skills but that is something that will probably show up on Youtube sooner or later.

Here's where the real agony starts. The receptionist wanted the payment ahead of time. I can see this as a good move because you never know if someone is going to run out screaming in terror. One hundred and Seventy Two dollars later I was sitting in the waiting room listening to yesterday's Rush Limbaugh on my Walkman, and looking at miniskirts in OK magazine. Rush was talking about how the reporters in Haiti were spending more time talking about how horrible the tents they were sleeping in was. I was thinking it beats being under rubble, but I imagine that the reporters are saving that coverage until they can figure out the way to blame it on Bush. This was when the assistant came out to get me. Yeah I probably needed blood pressure meds at this point.

Into the room, and into the chair, that reminds me of something out of a Saw movie. Dr comes in and explains the ordeal, answers my questions {how long til I can brush my teeth, how long til I can use a straw, yaddita yaddita} and then he starts stabbing the inside of my mouth with a series of needles. Laying in the chair blinded from the watery eyes because those bitches hurt! Nothing like starting off something you know will be painful with something that is painful. Then he explained to me that they are going to let the Novocaine set in before they start. That's awfully nice of them I was thinking, because I was more concerned with letting the pain from the Novocaine being installed subside. Now my mind is working.

Well I am waiting for the thirty or so minutes {forty or so days, seems like} and I have plenty of time to talk myself into a tizzy. Well of course I drank almost nothing after getting up because my greatest fear {pissing myself in public over the shock} was going to come true someday. That didn't stop my bladder from starting to yell “YOU ASSHOLE WE GOTS TO PEE!” about 15 seconds after the doctor sticks me with the needles. Yeah after about twenty minutes I get up and ask the assistant where there is a bathroom. She dutifully walks me down the hall and out the door into the waiting room, mostly full of attractive women {figures} with a spatter diaper on my head, and the inability to smile from the Novacaine Libup. Oh how I stood in front of that fucking toilet with my bladder yelling “HA HA ASSHOLE .. PUNKED!” and thinking I should start drinking more coffee to teach the bastard who's boos. Back through the waiting room where all the women are now staring strait at the door, so they can catch what they missed on the way through. Leave it to Jeremy The Great to make a situation all that much worse.

Back in the Marquis de Sade chair, I get to hang around and wait a bit longer. I have started the age old argument with myself of whether or not the Novocaine has worn off or not, and just how much extra pain will THAT cause me. You see I have no real gauge on how bad this will be. My other two wisdom teeth came out after they had broken. By the time I got those puppies ripped out of me, it wasn't even conceivable that it would CAUSE pain. The thing that was already CAUSING the pain was being removed after all. The worst things I remember was all the blood I had to swallow, and lets be real, only a freak doesn't find that to be nasty, my Gothic friends included {Love Ya .. Mean It} and there are some situations in life where I am normal. In this scenario again, two perfectly healthy teeth are being removed, so they might not a. be willing or b. leave a happy bunny feeling in the holes that they came out of. Can you see how this mind works when it is left alone for too long?

Finally the doctor comes in and says “we're going to do a test first, we're not just going to attack this full out,” and my mind immediately starts {oh shit, I didn't study! What if I flunk? Oh My God} and he stuck something sharp into my gum. I ws too busy worrying to notice it so I guess I won. My prize? To get a couple of teeth ripped out. YAY JEREMY! This is when they all start to take a defensive stance. I kinda get the feeling that at any moment six people could step out of the shadows and hold me down. Like those old pictures from the museum of a person getting their tooth pulled with a string and a doorknob {which is total bullshit by the way} and always goes back the the other picture of he guy struggling while six men yank out their tooth with the bottle of whiskey on the floor. I was contemplating all of these scenarios including what would be the family norm, a jaw incision because the root is wrapped around the jawbone, and a shattered tooth requiring a drill plug.

Somewhere between forty seconds and ninety seconds later the doctor told me to bite down on the gauze that he was shoving in my mouth. He was holding two bloody teeth in a little bag in front of me {and yes my mind first started saying “Holy crap why you holding someone else's bloody, crusty teeth in front of me you nasty motherfu... Oh those are MY teeth?”} and it appeared that the whole ordeal was over, now just to get home and bore a couple of people with a blog about it. Since I started writing this I decided that I was sick of chewing on the gauze and I can actually feel my tongue and lips, so it's a so far so good scenario, but I am afraid to swallow. I might accept my stupidity, I may revel in my toughness, I may laugh at my foolish mind, but I am going to do everything I can to avoid that nasty taste thanks to my friends at Dunkin Donuts. This swig and swallow is going to happen the second after I place the bear smiley here ;8o)

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

I have been bouncing around online for just about 20 years, so I have been there and have done that. It doesn't mean I didn't like it and wouldn't do it again. As most humans, I am a social animal. To be a social animal on the internet it is social media that binds us all together. I prefer Google + and Twitter but have pages on the other ones that I ignore, so you probably should too.

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Contrary to popular opinion I hate politics, but have political opinions ..

The easiest way to get under my skin is to apply the "all you talk about is politics" tag. This is a common knee jerk reaction some have when they see something political, and unfortunately I don't hold back sometimes. As a matter of fact, I share more about health, fitness and blogging than politics, which you would know if you weren't busy dismissing me. I actually follow and interact with more people that disagree with me than agree with me politically. The list of "other than politics" seems to be growing everyday and it probably looks a lot like this: